Memories of Unintended Adventure
by Pocky Fiend
Summary: Also known as "Of Talking Dogs, Berzerking Horses, Fighting Butlers and Encounters with Nymphs". The adventure journal of Kevror Marius. Some suggestive language, but overall very clean.
1. Foreword

**Foreword by the Author**

I had never imagined that my memoirs would be anything more than one book containing my own recollections of the events surrounding my dabbling into adventuring. To see my memoirs become more than simply a book to be handed down from generation, rather a published book available to the masses has been both interesting and surprising.

In order that my readers understand my lack of flourish or flair in writing, I would like to point out that I do not profess to be a writer, and while my wording may at times become verbiose, this is simply because I was raised to speak so. I have not written this memoir in a way that differs significantly from how I would tell the story around a campfire, in a tavern, or over the dinner table (though some details would likely be left out were I telling this story at the dinner table, for some of this is not for polite company.)

If you are easily offended by mention of blood and gore, or matters of an intimate nature, this book may not be to your taste. Likewise, if the very thought of a noble deigning to mingle with commoners offends you, please close the book and think no more of it. If werewolves and vampires are distasteful to you, I regret to inform you that I will be nothing less than myself, an ex- werewolf and vampire, so you also will need to set down the book.

However, if you are intrigued by adventure, fascinated by unusual cultures, or excited at the prospect of visiting far-off places without leaving the safety of your home, I should hope that this book fits the bill. Furthermore, I hope that it discourages many from adventuring, an inherently unsafe career choice that while a quick path to wealth, is often traumatic.


	2. How I Became An Adventurer

How I Became an Adventurer

If you had asked me as a child what I wanted to be when I grew up, I would have mentioned many things, be it successful, rich, well-liked, or respected, but the word 'adventurer' would never have left my lips. Adventuring was for the commoner wishing to make something of himself, or for the common ruffian with little taste for the finer things in life. Adventuring seemed to me a foolhardy path, in which the risks to one's life and limbs far outweighed the profits to be found along the way.

How then did I lose my way and become an adventurer? The simple answer to the question is that due to circumstances beyond my control, at first, I found that the profits, far greater than I had imagined as a child, greatly outweighed the risks. The real answer of course, is far more complex. One does not turn to adventuring on a lark, nor through a desire for wealth, there are safer ways to earn a small fortune. With hazards so great, choosing a life of adventure over commercial enterprise is no simple matter, many factors come into play.

Many nobles are quick to blame the friends and family of the adventurer for their choice of endeavor. In some cases, perhaps the friends and family are to blame, but I do not believe this to be the case for myself. My parents were relatively normal, and never encouraged such flights of fancy.

I was born and raised in Selgaunt, the son of a noble merchant, and his Elven mate. As scandalous alone as that was, my parents both were also natural lycanthropes, my father a wolf with a coarse yet glossy coat, my mother a dainty red fox. Being natural lycanthropes, they were not capable of infecting others with the more common, cursed, form of lycanthropy, nor were they inherently evil and subject to those fits of pique brought on by the appearance of the full moon. Natural lycanthropes are, by and large, normal people with normal lives, trying to make an honest living.

My father had always had a keen eye for business, and enjoyed the feeling of satisfaction that came with a job well done, a profit fairly made. My mother was keen for everything that grew, and was quite the painter. Many of the paintings she contributed to our home were of flowers she had grown herself. Despite of, or perhaps because of, the anti-Elven sentiment in Sembia, she spent little time outside the walls of our home, devoting herself to an enjoyable life of idle leisure. Her fondness for plants was very much noticed by visitors, who often commented on the beauty of the formal gardens on the grounds.

As a young boy, I was kept hidden from others. While keeping me hidden certainly encouraged gossiping among our peers, my father felt that it was necessary to protect the family name. Natural lycanthropes, you see, are born with the appearance of both man and beast. They do not learn to control their form until later, and so it was that I was hidden from our peers. My pointed ears likewise did the family no favors, making my Elven heritage plain to see. Being half-Elven, I was subject to much of the hatred Sembians showed for all the Elven people. Fortunately, the Anti-Elven sentiment ensured that I spent much of my early years with my mother, who took great pleasure in trying to nurture a passion for all things natural, and in teaching me to control my lycanthropic gift.

As I grew, I gained better control of my gift, and came to enjoy the adaptability inherent to being able to change from a wolf to a half-Elf. In my wolven form, my sense of smell was greatly heightened, and I could often tell who was visiting before hearing or seeing them. I could also run much faster than if I had remained in my half-Elven form, for wolves of that age are far more capable than half-Elves of that age.

At the age of six, my father made the decision to have a surgeon resculpt my ears to attempt to hide my Elven heritage. My mother was not in favor of this course of action at all, indeed, when the day came, one look at the surgeon, and she fled to the gardens, not to be seen again all day. While many children fear a visit from the barber, I do believe many of them would find the barber far less threatening by comparison had they had their ears surgically altered. Despite my young age at the time, I remember quite vividly the details of this ghastly experience. The ears of Elves are notoriously delicate and sensitive, much more so than in the other races of Toril.

I was guided to the kitchen, where the mess would be easy to clear up, and the surgeon began laying out his tools on the chopping block. I watched in fascination, as he removed several delicate silver scalpels from his bag, along with a silver needle, and fine thread. He seemed harmless enough, and chatted with a soft Calashite lilt, curly dark hair spilling out of the sides of his hat. He explained to my father that he had done this procedure many times before, and that it was for the best. I was unconvinced that it was for the best, since it was not he that was going under the knife to be cut in a similar fashion as is done in high-bred dogs. His tools now organized, he pulled a scroll from his bag, and placed his hand on my shoulder, before beginning the incantation.

And so it was that he began cutting into my sensitive ears with those delicate silver tools. The pain was immeasurable, searing and sharp, but I could neither speak, nor move. All I could do was remain trapped by the spell as he butchered my ears, slicing and pinching, piercing through my ears with that silver needle to close the gap now left. At least he was kind enough not to place the tips of my ears in front of me as he discarded them, for the experience was already quite terrifying and gruesome. I would not wish this experience on anyone, being unable to scream, nor to protect oneself from harm as another savaged them. I am quite certain that had I been able to move, I would have bitten off both his hands, and felt no remorse at all.

One might think that such savagery visited upon a child would incline them to taking unusual levels of risk in day to day life, however, I do not believe it contributed significantly to my decision to take up adventuring.

Discounting family and poor background, it is time to address the possible influence of my friends on my choice to begin adventuring.

At the fairly late age of 10, I began joining my peers in learning fencing. They had many years of experience over myself, and I pushed myself hard to catch up. Here I met the first werewolf outside of my own family, though he was older than myself. My teacher in fencing was considered one of the best in the realms, and I would certainly send my own children to learn under his expert tutelage. In fencing, one learns to apply strength in measure, patience when needed, and when to keep in check a short temper. I progressed quickly in fencing, soon taking up the weapon of my ancestors, as my father had little use for it, being far better with the pen than with the sword.

My skill with a rapier has proven invaluable in surviving in the tough game that is adventuring, and if I had not received such training, I am quite sure I would not have lived long enough to be able to call myself anything more than a desperate individual who died due to making one poor decision. As such, I am certain that my skill with a blade has been a contributing factor in my decision to turn to adventuring, and to remain doing so.

My friends were typical of their station, carousing until the lamp oil ran down, aggressively riding the line on the hunt, and perfecting their skill with weapons of war. While I often encouraged my peers into action that today I would consider poorly thought out, and was frequently cajoled into doing the same, none of us yet showed an interest in adventuring. As young adults, the most challenging things in life were the hunt for good women, and the hunt for boar. That none of my friends have joined me in my adventuring leaves little doubt that my peers were not of great influence in my reasons to begin a life of danger, mystery, and following the road wherever it may lead.

And so we must look at other common reasons to become an adventurer. For many, it is the promise of profit, but for a noble, this is rarely a reason to begin adventuring. In my case, however, there is an exception. At the age of 20, my father was to send me to Turmish to expand his business ventures, and my knowledge of the world, however, this was not to be. So rushed was I at my father's request, that in exchange for passage on a boat to Turmish, I relented, after great argument with the captain, to aiding the sailors in loading the boat with supplies. Little did I know that the corners of one box were laced with silver, at least until I picked it up, at which point my skin began to burn and blister, much as if I had touched a hot pan, and I dropped the box, my hands raw and bloody from contact with the silver. Since it was daylight, I clearly could not be a vampire, and so it was that I was chased out of town. As I ran, people skewered me with pitchforks, spears and swords, though they did little harm, and others pelted me with crossbow bolts. Outside of the gate, they finally ended their hounding, and turned their attention to my father's estate, trapping my family inside, and setting the home ablaze. Alone, my back peppered with crossbow bolts like a pincushion, and with little more to my now besmirched name than my rapier, and the clothes I wore, I trudged North, further from home than ever before. I had no money, and no-one to turn to for help. I would have to find my own way in the world, while having little knowledge of anything but my previous life.

My butler, Gronk, had disappeared in the chaos, but I would soon find him on the road, where we would dispatch four Orcs before traveling on to the next town. Stories shared at the inn soon alerted me to a potential for profit. A goblin band had taken residence in a place called The Sunless Citadel, and had sold, every year for the past twelve, a magical apple with the ability to heal all, including curses of many kinds. The reward for procuring the tree was great, and so, needing gold, I took the job out of necessity.

Necessity will drive people to amazing lengths, but once they have achieved their goal, many will stop. I have not, so while necessity has been a driving force in choosing the life of an adventurer, it is not the sole reason I have remained an adventurer. Two thousand gold would have been more than sufficient to begin my life anew, albeit not so well off as I had been used to being.

Boredom is often cited as a reason for adventuring, but I would have been perfectly content leading the life of a wealthy noble, enjoying good company, pleasant food, and great wine until I grew old and died, never wanting for anything. While sometimes the open road is exciting, it is also tiring, and fraught with danger. If there is one thing I grow bored of as an adventurer, it is the endless miles of traveling, whether on foot, or by horse, or by carriage.

Neither of my parents had a history of adventuring, and so it is not that I inherited the lifestyle from my parents, as is common in many young adventurers. Power and glory hold little value for me, though I will readily admit that perhaps such glory is beginning to go to my head, why else should I publish my memoirs, and lay bare my life, if not for ego?

For many commoners, becoming an adventurer is but one step in becoming more than they would otherwise. Personally, I was quite content with who I was, a half-elven lycanthropic noble from a proud family, so clearly I did not continue adventuring in order to achieve such a goal.

Wanderlust is as good a reason as any to begin adventuring, and it has certainly become a reason for me to continue doing so. I enjoy encountering new lands, people and customs, and I revel in exploring places unseen by the majority of the population. Such locations are remote, and fascinating. Stories about isolated, or abandoned locales are very popular among bards, and it is very enjoyable knowing something very few others do. It is also fun to pass such stories on to bards. Over time, these stories will morph and change, often inspiring others with wanderlust to find their own way there. This is also good for scholars, particularly those focusing on ancient history, as the more people explore an area, the more becomes known about an area.

My adventuring life may have been born of necessity, but as you can see, there was more to my decision to continue in my new lifestyle than simply necessity, and many of my life experiences have been invaluable in ensuring my continued survival. All it took was a push in the right direction, a little determination, a little faith, a little luck, having the right skills, and the right traveling companions for me to grow to enjoy my new direction in life. However, this journey has not been without peril, and many things have happened to me that have shaken my faith, in myself, others, and sometimes even the Gods. At times I truly felt that Selune had forsaken me, and where before I had been a man of great faith, I now approach all things with a great measure of caution.


	3. My Companions

**My Companions**

Behind every adventurer is a brave band of friends. Without friends, it can be difficult to survive the unforgiving rigors of adventuring. Your Adventuring Companions will be the ones sitting beside you in many a dire situation, and if you're like some adventuring groups I know, you'll spend many hours in the drunk tank, so make sure they're someone you get along with.

In assembling an adventuring party, it is useful to have at least four skill sets covered. These are the four pillars of adventuring. It could stand with three, but four is more stable.

The first pillar is someone skilled in the arts of war, but not at the expense of cleverness and education. People who make up the first pillar are likely to be good with maps, skilled at arms, but not always willing to get dirty. This is most often the leader of the party. As with all good leaders, he or she is the anchor for the party, the person to whom they rally in times of need.

The second pillar is the unseen one, the hidden pillar. This person will astound you with his or her ability to enter spaces unnoticed by you, or by your adversaries. They will be experts in the mechanisms of locks and traps, equally at home getting you into places you do not belong, and getting you out of places that you probably do.

The third pillar is the vanguard, the point of the sword. Skilled at arms, often highly observant of their surroundings, and frequently at one with the land, whatever type that may be. In particularly unusual surroundings, your third pillar may benefit from the hiring of a local guide. The third pillar is always the first into combat, most often because he noticed the opposing combatants long before you became aware of them, and frequently before they are aware of your sometimes impetuous companion.

The fourth pillar is absolutely essential, for you will not survive adventuring very long without someone to patch you up. The fourth pillar is always a healer of some variety. This does not mean that they are going to shy away from combat, far from it, many Priests and Paladins of Tempus are the ones to start, and finish, a fight. In smaller groups, it is not uncommon for the leader to be some form of war priest. Clerics and Paladins are often greatly charismatic, and take well to a leadership role. If your Healer is capable of Raising the Dead, it can be especially beneficial if he is fleet of foot, and fond of fleeing, after all, it is a little difficult to raise someone from death if you also are dead.

**Gronk**

Gronk is quite possibly the bravest Goblin I have ever met. He has faced every challenge with a strength and tenacity that I might even dare to call 'enviable'. My loyal butler of many years, I have come to realize that many times during my childhood, my family and I had completely underestimated him. His skill with daggers far surpasses my own, despite years of training, and his ability to sneak into and out of trouble unnoticed is quite staggering. He has been my closest friend and ally, and amazingly tolerant of my incessant writing. I am quite honored to have such a faithful friend, and I doubt I will ever truly feel safe on the road without him.

His language mastery is truly astounding, and his dexterity is rivaled by very few. Furthermore, his ability to not only plan ahead for himself, but to somehow manage to look out for myself in addition never ceases to amaze. Never ever underestimate those who serve you, and treat them well, for one day, you may find them totally indispensable. The depths of their knowledge are often far deeper than one can imagine. Behind every good man... is great staff.

**Treasure**

Originally purchased as a light riding horse, I soon discovered that there was more to Treasure than met the eye. From the moment I led her from the horse dealer, I found her to have atrocious ground manners for a well-broke seven year old, which I was quick to attribute to her being marish*. She was keen to kick, and a little mouthy. At first, this foul temperament was not appreciated, however, in our first encounter with enemies, I found her to be amazingly brave, and very willing to defend herself. I was quite taken aback, and believed perhaps the dealer had made an error, selling me a warhorse, rather than a riding horse. As time went by, her behavior became much easier to judge, and her temper more tolerable. When under threat, she would not only stand her ground, but would charge at the enemy, snaking her neck out to bite, and kicking. She would even join Gronk, Kibble and myself in a charge.

The transformation of her character did not come without a price however, she was quick to make her displeasure known if you failed to tack, groom or feed her correctly. Despite her foibles, she was one of the most enjoyable horses I have ever had the pleasure of riding, and her speed at all gaits was quite amazing to behold. I truly believe she could have outpaced many of the most famous racehorses of Calimshan.

It is a shame that Treasure no longer travels with us. I miss her, sentimental as that may sound. Truly, it is a shame that she had no offspring, for if horses must earn their right to reproduce, then she surely had earned such a right through her speed, stamina, and strength of will. Finding a stud worthy would have been a difficult task indeed, but the foals would have been quite stunning.

*marish, adjective meaning 'temperamental, aggressive, changeable'. Commonly attributed to a mare in heat, but also descriptive of a mare of hot, unpleasant temperament.

**Kibble**

If I had been a normal person, I would have found Kibble's ability to speak Common alarming. Further, his ability to cast spells would have had me convinced he was some kind of abomination, or a poly-morphed human. Kibble was in fact a priest of Zelalith, a god in good standing with my own. We were capable of conversing with each other in Canine as well as Common, which made for some very interesting conversations, especially when we were talking about someone in our presence without their knowing.

Kibble joined us shortly after acquiring sufficient gold to purchase mounts. Much like Treasure, Kibble, who was to be Gronk's mount, was far more valuable than originally expected. Having Kibble as my friend and ally was strongly appreciated, both for the companionship, and for healing my wounds as necessary. Kibble's ability to range far out during combat proved especially valuable in defending the party from the larger, more dangerous threats, such as adult dragons, as his spells could be hurled, on the run, from great distances. A particularly memorable use of this tactic was in the harrying of an adult red dragon just north of the Sun Soul Monastery. We had traveled about six hours north (it would have been a half day's ride, had we not had items with magical enchantments that enhanced one's speed) when we spotted the dragon high in the sky. Without Kibble's ability to range out, I am certain that encounter would have been our last. She was a large, wily dragon, unwilling to challenge us on the ground, using to great advantage her ability to fly over our heads and attack.

Kibble's keen nose was of great help in tracking down the dragon's lair, and we spent many hours aiding each other in the hunt, whether for food, or to track and finish a wounded adversary. I became fast friends with Kibble, and Kibble shall always be welcome in my 'pack'.

**Quilnar**

My most recent traveling companion, Quilnar is a suspicious, but otherwise amicable individual who joined us shortly after we became cursed with vampirism. Cocky and charismatic, his interests have not been clear to me from the beginning. His reasons for joining us still elude me to this day, but I am sure those reasons are entirely rational to him. His good looks and charm serve him well, but I cannot help but feel that there is a certain sharpness to his personality that is both sinister and twisted. I am not certain how far I can trust him, beyond trusting that he acts for his own benefit in all cases.

When the muse strikes him, there is little that can be done to stop this fellow from singing, dancing, and playing his guitar. I am pleased however that I had another friend who wrote almost as incessantly as I. He had a huge book filled with inspirations, songs, and stories, and would regularly write in it, with a flowing, flourishing hand that quite put my own writing to shame.

With Quilnar being a follower of The Masked Lady, it may be surprising that I do not feel a greater kinship with him, after all, one aspect of The Masked Lady was once a goddess with a similar portfolio to Selune, but I found it hard to feel such kinship with someone so shady. The duality of his personality was well-matched with that of The Masked Lady, and put me quite ill-at-ease.

**Viday**

Viday was a Desmodu trader that we met during our brief excursion into the Underdark. He was friendly, though not of much real use in combat, instead staying out of harm's way, as is typical of most merchants. He was keen to explain the history of his people, and the society to us, as is detailed later in my journal. I found him to be an optimistic fellow with a certain joviality. He only traveled with us for a short while, before unfortunately also being turned into a Vampire. He left to be with his own people after this, and I have not seen him since.


End file.
